Clinging to Courage
by leenza
Summary: [Chapter 10] Alanna has been taken prisoner in Scanra. King Jonathan ordains the frustrating order of no rescue attempts. Who will step forward to save the endangered Lioness? Please read and review!
1. Lioness Lost

Disclaimer: nothing's mine ;)

AN: I've got so many stories that I've started and abandoned and I swear I'll get back to them eventually. But this one knocked on my temple and demanded to be written, so here I am. I dunno if anyone will even like it, but I liked the concept. Sooo here goes.

            Ransom was a fine specimen of horseflesh. Painted in a deep cobalt hue, he fell from a line of palomino mares, extracting his coloring from his sire's gene pool. He was a figure of pure muscle from hoof to withers, from whisker to tail. One slender foreleg pawed at the ground, silky mane cascading down in a waterfall effect onto his sinewy neck as he shook his head from side to side, eager to be gone from this dark forest. Slim auditives flicked back towards his rider as his sensitive, paper-thin nares flared impatiently, intelligent, wide-set eyes taking in his surroundings.

            Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau gripped the reins tightly with one white gloved fist, holding back the prancing animal cautiously. Just like the horse, she gazed around into the forest as if enemies could be behind every tree. In this respect, they worked together to keep each other safe. 

            Her other hand rested lightly on a sword hilt, ready to pull the weapon out at a moment's notice. The blade's shimmer attracted too much attention and so she kept it sheathed, but she felt more reassured when in contact with something so familiar in the midst of such strangeness. 

            Chancing one last glance around, she was finally satisfied. "Alright," she said softly, letting an inch or so of rein slip through her fingers. The horse leaped forward eagerly, though was careful not to take advantage of her gentle hands. He kept to the consistent canter they'd set since the day before, hooves producing a quiet thunder when they collided with the tightly packed mud the forest had grown over. Alanna shifted forward into a two-point, leaning over his neck to take her weight off his back. 

            They were not supposed to be in so far deep. And in the truth of it all, it was not supposed to be her. This was George's mission. But he'd taken an enemy arrow in the side and so she rode against his wishes to Scanra. For George, it would not have been such a dangerous mission. He knew how to blend in, how to conceal his identity, how to finesse certain situations. She knew none of this, which was why it was lucky that the person she had to find was not someone she had to worry about seeing through her façade. Instead, she just had to worry about what could happen to her on the way there. 

            She leaned her weight back as they came to the end of the forest, half-halting gently. Ransom slid to an abrupt stop, bringing his haunches up underneath him and for a moment appearing to be one of the 'dancing horses' the Court ladies rode. They stood for a moment, the horse chomping on the bit irritably. The lady knight ran a hand down his neck soothingly, staring out across the open field with a certain amount of trepidation. She didn't like the open target she'd become if she rode out there with no cover. But she had no other choice.

            _George wouldn't hesitate, Alanna told herself. Taking a deep breath, she set her chin in determination, clicking her tongue ever-so-softly. The thought of her husband, lying somewhere in a bed being tended to, his life hanging in the balance, brought things into perspective. The faster she finished this mission, the faster she could return to him. And all the more faster she could avoid the wrath of a king who didn't know it was not his most trusted spy out here smack dab in the middle of Scanra and she could leave this country that had given her the creeps and caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise the moment she'd crossed the border._

            The first lady knight in over a century had never backed down before. And so she rode forward at a brisk trot, keeping her eyes and ears open for something, anything. The feeling in the pit of her stomach grew worse, and somehow she knew she would not be allowed to pass without trouble. 

            It was Ransom that caught the sound of hoofbeats first. The colt whirled around, tail lashing behind him as he stared down three approaching horsemen. Alanna unwillingly tightened her grip on the reins, adrenaline surging through her veins. The horse yielded to his mistress's command, backing up a few steps, although every muscle in his body was tense and anxious. She flexed her right rein to pull him sideways, ready to flee at any moment. 

            The three horsemen stopped a good while away, though within hearing distance. She remained silent, realizing there was no way she could hide her identity. Her flaming locks framed her face, her purple eyes shone through the cloudy day, and the hilt at her waist was finely made. If they didn't know who she was, Fate smiled too fondly upon her. Finally, the apparent leader of the three spoke. "Why is a lioness so far from home?" The words were snarled more than said and Alanna blinked, wondering if she was supposed to be intimidated by his tone. If that was his intent, it was a poor effort indeed, for she instead felt an urge to laugh in his face.

            "I simply lost my way," she called back. At the sound of her familiar voice, Ransom settled down, though his ears displayed his alertness.

            "Your way lies with us, that way," he replied, pointing.

            "I don't think so," she said sweetly, a polite smile flickering briefly across her face.

            He returned the smile, though his was anything but polite. "It all depends on you under what terms you travel."

            She lifted her chin, smiling grimly this time. "You want me? Come and claim me!" Ransom caught the urgency in her voice and a pair of slender forelegs tucked under his chest as he half-reared. Alanna unsheathed her sword in one swift motion, raised it high above her head, and then turned Ransom's head to the north, sending him forward.

            She didn't need to look back to know they were being followed. But there was no way their horses could catch Ransom; he was one of the finest horses in all of Tortall. She gave him his head as he thundered across the field, flattening herself against his neck. It was moments like these that made her a knight, bravery like this that came from instinct and pure lack of thought. She could almost forget her pursuers as she briefly lost herself in Ransom's joy to be flying. Because they _were flying. Alanna couldn't even feel when the colt's hooves hit the ground. Her knuckles scrubbed needlessly against his neck; he was already giving her all he had. But somehow he found more, as if recognizing her urgent plea and their shared interest in leaving these three fools in the dust created by this headlong flight. His strides lengthened, eating up the ground in an effort to put more distance between them and their pursuers._

            Neither of them saw the added threat. Alanna heard the sound though and as Ransom shied to the side, she had time for one panicked thought. _Archers!_

            Then she hit the ground and everything went black.

Just a little prologue ;) Alanna went on one of George's spy missions cause he was badly injured and Jon doesn't know and now she's been captured, to summarize it up quickly for ya. Anyone catch the LotR reference? lurved that scene. 

Hmm what happens next! I kinda know, do you? :) reviews! Please! I even love flames :-P

love, linza


	2. Word From Scanra

Wheee! Thanks for all the reviews ;) that's probably a record for me! So how exciting! Let's see if you guys can beat it! :-P 

**When is CtC set?**

Weeell, here's the thing. I was planning for it to be set after Lady Knight, but I want Kel to be free and not tied to New Hope. Plus, I don't want all the Scanran conflict to be over. So…that leaves me with basically ignoring Lady Knight, which I didn't really want to do, but if I don't then I have to come up with a dumb reason for Kel not being at New Hope and it'll just be annoying. So you can assume it's basically around Lady Knight timeframe, except LK never happened so…aaaargh, I think I have to think it out a little better to give you a better answer, PsychoLioness :-P

*bonks treanz-alyce* I'm starting to recognize you =D I like when people review more than one of my stories!

la dame noir- haha, so I'm not the only one overwhelmed by ideas. Leave your pen name, I'd love to check out the ones you've posted.

[ Corus ]

            It had been a very trying day for the King of Tortall. First, he'd awoken to an empty room, his wife having departed at the light of day with the intent to avoid him. They'd had another argument the night before, this one loud enough to keep the nearest rooms' occupants awake for hours. It had been another disagreement about the princess, a topic they sparred over often. 

            Rubbing a hand over his tired face, Jonathan stared out the window in a daze, his thoughts refusing to be collected. Where was George? He'd been waiting for the spy's arrival for over a week. It wasn't like the thief turned noble to be so late. It had been a weight on his shoulders the past few days, perhaps being one of the causes of his foul temper.

            Had he made it over the border safely? _If anything ever happened to him, Alanna would…it would destroy her,_ he thought, forehead creasing. Sudden frustration surged through his veins and he banged his fist down onto the wooden table, startling one of his officials seated a few chairs away, working on some calculations for the Infirmary inventory. 

            "Sorry," he muttered, not very apologetically at all. The official murmured the response due a monarch and this only served to frustrate the king further. As he was standing to get some air, the door banged open and a young Sergeant of the Own raced into the room.

            Jonathan squinted at the Sergeant, certain he knew his name. He knew his face…the name was on the tip of his tongue. Ahh, Sergeant Domitan of Masbolle, the cousin of Alanna's former squire. He forced a smile, about to speak, when Dom flung a package down onto the table. "It's from Scanra, milord."

            The anxious look in his eyes was not lost on the king. Though he was eager to rip the paper off right then and there, he took a moment to muse this over. So his own anxiety had not gone unnoticed. All knew the king was waiting for something, anything. He sighed inwardly at this newfound knowledge, though he doubted anyone knew it was George. The Baron of Pirate's Swoop was a private noble, who kept to his humble tidings at home. At least, that was the façade they'd built up for him.

            "Thank you, Sergeant," he said, smiling slightly as he seated himself once more. Dom bowed his head respectfully as the king carefully peeled away the sealed edges of the package. 

            When he finally had pulled out the letter, he got one of the biggest shocks of his life. He dropped the paper down onto the table, his heart pounding and his jaw slightly unhinged as he just stared. 

_            A lady knight wandered into our midst the other day. We have what you would dearly miss; you have what we so badly desire. Shall the two be exchanged? We shall keep you informed of the lady._

            With a sudden thought, he whirled to face Dom. "Keladry of Mindelan? Her whereabouts." The words were rapped out in staccato fashion; he had no time for full thoughts.

            Lucky, Dom had military training and understood the order. "She has been taking her meals with the Own, sir. Lord Raoul wishes for her to accompany us to the border once the snows melt." 

            His heart fell, though he hated himself for wishing it was the greener lady knight. But he had known better anyway. What would Keladry have been doing in Scanra?

            "How could this happen?" The words were murmured for his ears alone, but Dom's keen ones caught them anyway.

            "Sir?" The inquiry was hesitant, as if Dom seemed to know this was a private breakdown he was witnessing. 

            Jonathan took a deep breath. He stared up at Dom reluctantly and made a decision. "There is no reason to keep this secret. The Own can know, as long as they only talk amongst themselves about it. I don't want the nobles and civilians to have any knowledge until we figure what to do about it."

            Having rambled on, he stopped to take a breath. "I need Raoul, Buri, Thayet, Baird, and whoever else you can think of here as soon as possible." He hesitated, before continuing. "There is no easy way to say this." Their eyes met, the king passing the horror on with an anguished glance. "The Lioness has been taken prisoner."

            The forgotten official at the table snapped his head up in alarm. Jonathan whirled back around at the sudden movement, blinking in surprise. Almost angrily he said, "There is to be _no word_ of this, understand?"  The official nodded, obviously stunned. And with that, the king strode out of the room, struggling to find a thought that could explain how this had happened.

Yup, short. I have more fun writing about Alanna. The next chapter will be back to her in Scanra, I'll make it a long one. Review please!! I love reviews! They make my day ;) so pleeeease review, even if it's anon or a flame, or anything. I love them no matter what! haha

love, linza


	3. Lioness Captured

Disclaimer: nothing's mine!

treanz alyce: bonking is a form of affection! *bonk**grin*

----~*~----

            Alanna woke up feeling groggy and disoriented. She opened her mouth to mumble to George that she only needed a few more minutes. She was not so young anymore, she wanted to remind him, these days she needed her beauty sleep. 

            Then her mind clicked into action with the swiftness of her knight days and mornings when she'd needed to leap out of bed before dawn. She was not home. She was not at the Swoop. To prove this, all she needed to do was move her hands ever so slightly. Her wrists were cruelly bound by what seemed to be iron chains. Alanna could already feel bruises starting where the cuffs had rubbed roughly against her skin. 

            Her eyes had been scrunched up, too sensitive to the light. She realized this was a result of whatever had caused her to pass out and it was a reflex to reach up to prepare a healing to set onto herself. That was when she realized exactly why she felt so drained. Her Gift, the purple fire that burned steadily from within, was gone. All of it. Not even a single spark or ember remained.

            _Don't panic, she told herself. Even so, she could feel her temper rising. Why had she been so stupid? Why had she tried to run? One blast of purple fire and those stupid horsemen would have been dead or fleeing for their lives. Had she learned nothing in her life of dangerous quests?_

            The panicked thought right before her fall came back to her. _Archers! Frowning, she remembered a spark of pain that had spread across her right side. Carefully checking herself for injury, she found nothing. They had healers, then. Her body didn't heal as fast as it used to and she'd seen in George what an arrow could do to unprotected skin and bone. Especially if the arrow had magic flowing behind it. She could easily be dead right now if they didn't have a healer. _

            Finally her eyes adjusted enough for her to take in her surroundings. What she found surprised her, and for good reason. This was not the environment of a prisoner, despite the chains that said otherwise. She was in…a carriage of some sort; she could hear hoofbeats that were distinctly close by. That brought about another wave of thoughts. Where was Ransom? If they'd harmed one hair on him…she'd kill them with her bare hands. 

            She'd checked her body for the various weapons she had hidden as soon as she had remembered what happened. They couldn't be stupid enough to leave her sword with her, but she had hoped they'd miss the daggers in her boots and up her sleeves, the throwing stars stuffed into the waistband of her pants, and the Yamani fan in the billowing midriff of her white shirt. Well, she'd hoped in vain, because they'd found everything.

            "Calm down," she said softly to herself, more out of a need to hear her own voice than anything else. 

            As soon as she'd spoken the words, the carriage stopped and so did her heart for a single beat. Instead of faking sleep, as she might have done had she not still been so disoriented and given more time to think, she stood proudly in the middle of the rather large cabin as the door swung open, ready to angrily meet the gaze of whatever captor was coming to meet her. 

            The man's eyes were kind. This threw her, but only for a moment. It was easy to be kind to someone who was chained. She didn't want his pity, no matter the conditions. He smiled when he found her and she simply glared back suspiciously, refusing to let her guard down.

            "You are awake," he said pleasantly in Common, setting a tray down on a table by the door and moving the table over towards the couch-like furniture against the wall. 

            "Well, look at that. I hadn't noticed." The rudeness came just as easily as his kindness seemed to. She smiled, but unlike his, hers was as fake as this pretense he was trying to operate under. 

            He ignored her tone. "I have brought you breakfast."

            Breakfast? Her gaze flicked past him out the window to the sun that was only a little ways up in the sky. How long had she been unconscious/asleep for? She didn't feel comfortable asking him and so was left to wonder. Instead of voicing this inquiry, she blinked at the food with a certain degree of disdain, just barely stifling an urge to laugh in his face. "I can't eat that."

            He was confused, staring at the tray for a good ten seconds before turning back to her. "It is good food. Fresh. Best bread in all of western Scanra. The captain don't eat no better himself."

            Still, she shook her head. "It's poisoned." George himself would strike her down in anger if anyone back home learned that she had readily accepted food from the hand of an enemy. It was the common sense of a thief, common sense she would have to hold strong to if she wanted to survive. 

            It was his turn to stifle a laugh, though he seemed to do so out of a concern for his own safety. The prisoner didn't _look _like much, especially with those chains, but he'd heard the men talking about her, whoever she was. "Princess, you must perceive your own value. This isn't a silly Court assassination."

            Princess? Who in Mithros's name did he think she was? Was it possible he didn't know who she was? The three horsemen obviously had…this situation was getting too weird. "I don't understand." She spoke truthfully, hoping he would enlighten her.

            He smiled again, the smile she knew better than to trust. "You are worth far more to us alive than dead."

            Of course. That made sense, even to her groggy mind. So he must think she was a princess. Were they going to hold her hostage against Tortall? "I see," she said, although she really didn't, "but I don't know who you are and you obviously don't know who I am. So how about you stop patronizing me?"

            He couldn't help it. He laughed. "I am called Arven. And your name?"

            She couldn't hesitate, she had to speak. And so she said the first name that came to mind, the name she thought of when she thought _Princess. "Kalasin."_

            Arven didn't even look surprised. "So we've captured the Princess of Tortall. Isn't that something?"

            _You are an idiot and I can't wait to escape right out from under your nose, she thought, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Isn't it, though?" A silence fell between them and he started to move back towards the door. Panic surged into her mind and she forced out one, single word. "Wait!"_

            He turned, one pale brow arching questioningly, remaining silent. "My horse," she squeezed out, "what did you do with him?"

            Arven grinned. "He is a fine horse. The king will be pleased with him."

            And just like that her temper flared. "He's _my_ horse." 

            He shook his head, though again there was that kindness shining through his stern demeanor. "Not anymore. Though if you're good, you can ride him until we reach the city."

            The city? Where were they going? "If I'm good?" She controlled her temper by asking a question that she really didn't care as to what the answer was. 

            He frowned, then beamed as if remembering something that had previously slipped his mind. "There's a dress in that drawer that Capel wants you to wear for dinner. We're stopping before night fall; you, him, me, and three others are staying at an inn."

            She absorbed this as he was closing the door. He was a few strides away when he glanced back at the startled yelp that came from inside the carriage. "A _dress?!_" What kind of princess was this? Was Tortall really as barbaric as this princess made it seem? These answers would come to him, of this he was sure. Things could get interesting with a princess around. 

            Alanna was rightfully confused. This Arven had seemed, for lack of a better word, sympathetic to her plight. Could she somehow make a friend of him? Win him to her cause? She didn't think so. He was Scanran _and_ he was stupid enough to think she was Princess Kalasin. She knew stories of her quests had traveled this far north. And those horsemen had recognized her. Was it possible she'd misjudged him? Was he maybe not from Scanra? He was blonde, but then so were a lot of the Court ladies back home. And they weren't Scanran. That was simply a stereotype.

            Arven had mentioned a king. Would she be meeting him? Probably. Capturing the Lioness was an admirable feat; the king would want to reward his men and possibly try to interrogate her. What could she tell him? She knew nothing of the troops stationed at the border; it had been a long time since she'd served with the army. She'd slipped through a crack in the border where no troops were stationed, as George had directed her to.

            George. For a brief moment she wished he had never gotten injured. Then he'd be…here instead of her. That took a long minute to sink in. And he wasn't exactly notorious as a noble; he knew how to dress the part of a thief. Once he was recognized as Tortallan, he'd probably just be killed. So it was better, much better that she was here in his place. 

            Exhausted, she sank down onto the bed, staring at the dress she was meant to wear. "How am I even supposed to put it on while wearing these?" She shook her hands vigorously, causing a clinking sound to vociferate throughout the cabin as the chains knocked against each other. Just like that, she had a reason to be disobedient. And just like that, she was hanging onto consciousness by a thin thread.

            "I'm tired," she whispered into the pillow. "So, so tired." And then her weary soul collapsed and she gave in to the sleep that overbearingly shut her eyes. Gainel briefly let her see places she'd never been and people she'd never met, before he gave in to her demands.

            She dreamed of Tortall. Not just a silly daydream, there was something…_real_ about what she saw. Alanna inhaled deeply, feeling as if she could breathe in Tortallan air. The castle loomed up before her and she took a moment to gaze at it longingly, before being swept along the hallways she knew so well to the War Room, where a person whose voice she would recognize in her sleep and did recognize now while imprisoned in the chambers of slumber addressed a meeting of important people she had once worked alongside of.

            "This cannot reach the Swoop!" Jonathan was thundering, his eyes and face ablaze. He leaned over the table, resting his weight on his knuckles as his voice dropped to a threatening whisper. "George can _not_ learn of this, understand?"

            There was a brief silence as Alanna's heart dropped. Then Raoul slowly asked, "Why not?"

            "He would saddle his horse and ride for Scanra tomorrow, if he knew!" The king exclaimed, his whole face darkening at the thought. 

            _No! Alanna cried out in her sleep, tears burning at her eyelids. _Tell him now, before he finds out for himself. Tell him now, otherwise he will be gone before you can stop him. Tell him now, to save him.__

"George is free to do what he wishes," Buri said, frowning at the king.

            "There are to be _no_ rescue attempts," Jonathan replied, his voice dangerously quiet. "_None."_

            There was a shocked silence. _Jonathan, you have to tell him_. The king spoke again, answering the unasked questions with the royal manner he had developed over the years. "They are going to hold her against us. Any action we take puts her in jeopardy and is exactly what they want. I refuse to give them what they want. If we are going to get her back safe and sound, we need to tread carefully, leaving no footprints." His gaze swept through the room. "Tell your troops what my orders are. _No one is to cross the border for __any reason."_

            "Sir," Flyndrake began, his tone hesitant, but Jonathan interrupted swiftly.

            "Yes, I know, the troops have been trying to attack once word was gotten to them of Alanna. They are to stop as of yesterday." He left no room for argument and when the silence stretched on for a long moment, he nodded solemnly. "We all need some time to think. We'll meet again tomorrow, same time." 

            In her sleep, Alanna wept. Jerking awake, she swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. _George_. "Goddess protect him," she whispered, burying her face in her hands as her heart broke. "Don't let me be his downfall." She hated herself for being weak, but then George always had been her weakness, her vulnerability. Alanna closed her eyes, wishing she could muster enough imagination to pretend she was back at the Swoop, patiently sitting by his side as he healed. She prayed for his ignorance and for his safety, one final tear sliding down a high-set cheekbone. _George_.

Mleh…interesting. I ran away with this chapter, didn't I? Not as long as I had decided it would be, but it seemed like a good stopping point. What do you think of Arven? I'm a little bothered by the name, but I'm bad with coming up with names. Feel free to drop suggestions for characters in later chapters, I'll love you forever if you do. 

Review! Please! And maybe I'll try to get another chapter up tomorrow, cause otherwise I won't be able to until as late as probably Wednesday, but only if you review! :-P

love, linza


	4. Thoughts From Tortall

Disclaimer: nothing's mine and this counts for all future chapters, I'm not putting it anymore, k? good.

Chibi noin – hmmm. You shall find out :-P 

            The dawn approached in a hazy mist of concealing fog. Keladry of Mindelan sat on her horse, slightly slumped over as she stared off into the distance that she could not see. Her mind's eye traveled to a place she had never been, hoping for a glimpse of the person that had been consuming her mind for the past day and a half. Sighing, she sniffed as she lifted her chin at the sound of her name, head turning slightly to look back.

            "Kel?" The voice was familiar, a voice she'd been hearing a lot for the past few months. She smiled slightly, his presence had never failed before to raise her spirits.

            "When are we leaving?" She turned to ask the question, staring into bright blue eyes steadily, her own hazel eyes curiously blank.

            "Very shortly, Lord Raoul says. Kel," Dom said, hesitating slightly, "are you alright?"

            "How can I be alright?" she asked rhetorically, her voice nothing more than a murmur. "The person I have wanted to be like for my entire life is being held captive and I have to stand by and do nothing. How can I do that?"

            There was a brief silence. Dom sighed, laying one arm across Peachblossom's neck as he gazed up at her. "We are all in the same position, Kel. Raoul is one of her best friends. But he must stay strong for the Own."

            She glanced away, squinting into the distance and he knew he was losing her. "Kel, we're going to get her back. She's the Lioness; they can't hold her hostage for long." Hesitantly, he placed a callused palm down onto one of hers that gently held the reins. Startled, she glanced back down at him.

            Words burst forth in a torrent of emotions. "They can do whatever the hell they want if I don't stop them! Dom, don't you see? I have to go. I have to save her. No one else is willing to defy King Jonathan, it has to be me. You can cover for me until it's too late for Raoul to send people after me."

            He shook his head solemnly. "No, I can't."

            Aghast, she stared at him, struggling to ignore the rising pain in her chest. "What do you mean, you can't?" she demanded, eyes flashing.

            "I can't, because I'm going with you." Here, he grinned, dazzling her with such a display of mutual happiness.

            "You can't be serious," she said, before another voice suddenly dropped into their conversation.

            "And _you can't be thinking of leaving me behind!" This was a voice they both knew. Something shifted in Dom's eyes before he tore his gaze away to look at the newcomer._

            "Meathead," he started, before being interrupted.

            "No, Dom!" Neal cried, his voice growing increasingly indignant. "I'm not going to let you and Kel just go gallivanting off to Scanra," he paused as they both shushed him, "while I have to travel to the border to be put under the command of a Healer who thinks that scrubbing dirty bedpans is an appropriate job for me."

            "Neal, we're not just going to go waltzing in. We have to be crafty. You don't fit with our disguises," said Kel, matching gazes with the green-eyed knight.

            "Disguises?" Dom questioned, before Neal could say anything else. He studied her and then chuckled heartily. "You've been planning this. You knew I would come all along."

            A crimson tint spread across Kel's high-set cheekbones. "Well, I had hoped," she said softly, smiling demurely.

            Neal's eyes flicked back and forth from his cousin to his best friend, before he spoke again, setting this information aside to be dissected later. "Sorry to ruin your honeymoon plans, but I'm coming. I'll make up my own disguise."

            Kel blushed again and it took Neal only a little while to figure out that it was because he hadn't been so far off base with the honeymoon reference.

            "I still don't see why _I_ have to be the squire," Neal grumbled, letting his horse have free rein to pick its way through a patch of pebbles. 

            Kel sighed. "They'll be looking for the Gift in the knight. Dom blends in more than you do. You would call attention to yourself. Unwanted attention."

            "Plus," Dom added with a cheeky grin, "who would ever believe you could win the heart of such a lady?" Blue met hazel and held on strong for a long moment. Kel glanced away, a slight frown crossing her face. He was trying to make a joke of it and they were good enough friends to be able to joke with each other, but lately she'd been wondering about those sidelong glances of his.

            Sighing, she forced it from her mind. We're going to Scanra, she reminded herself, not to a ball, no matter what this dress makes you think. She wrapped the shawl tighter around her shoulders; the dress slipped around the top of each of her arms, leaving her neck bare. It was very fashionable; all of the ladies at Court had begun wearing the model. Kel was wasting no chances with her disguise. You are a noble Court lady, she told herself as she shook a strand of light hair out of her eyes. 

            Her gaze flicked over Dom's outfit, from the Queenscove shield that belonged to Neal, hanging from his saddlepad and proudly bearing the arms of a Tortallan knight, to the worn leather gloves, to the face she had once loved on Neal and now was fond of on Dom.

            She tugged at the reins gently. Peachblossom obediently halted, flicking his ears back questioningly. Dom looked back at her and halted as well. "Kel?" Neal stopped a little bit farther ahead, out of earshot but not out of sight. 

            "We're leaving Tortall," she said slowly. Peachblossom snorted, as if agreeing with her. He tossed his head, eager to be moving again. "Can we really do this? Can we really move through a country we know nothing about? We don't even know where she is. This is treason. If we take one wrong step, we've blown everything. Alanna's life, all our hard work to get where we are, everything. Can we risk it?" Her gaze slid forward into the distance, into Scanra, as if the answer lay before her.

            Dom moved closer, sidling his horse next to hers. Hesitantly, he reached for her hand, the hand that was unrecognizable in the silk white glove. She gave it to him, as a lady would. "We can, Kel, or we'll die trying." The words were spoken softly, meant to soothe the anxious, earnest look she trustingly gave him. As he brought her hand up to meet his lips, she realized that that was the only answer he could give that would satisfy all her misgivings. And there was no one else in the world she'd really rather be with right now, in this position. 

            Lifting her chin, she hardened herself on the inside. Not on the outside, of course. A lady was soft and delicate and feminine. _Everything I'm not_, Kel realized. She stiffened briefly, before relaxing. The dress hid all of her muscles. She was a lady, not a knight. _Alanna's life depends on whether I can pull this off or not. And so, with a deep breath, she smiled for Dom and headed into Scanra. It was going to be a long journey._

Uggggh. This chapter sucked very much. Very short, too. I'd redo it, but I'm more eager to write the next Alanna chapter. Kel and Dom are cute, aren't they? 

Review! Just click the button and let me know you care :)

If I don't update before Thursday, Merry Christmas everyone!!

love, linza 


	5. Lioness Refreshed

WHOOO!!!!! I BROKE 30 REVIEWS!!!!!! *grin**hugs her beyoooootiful reviewers* thanks for the best Christmas present ever! Besides my tall boots. *hugs them tightly and admires the leather* they're beyooootiful too. 

Anyway, here's your Alanna chapter. I don't think anyone had questions….oh wait, just kidding. 

**Verasilyn**- don't worry ;) many characters who I plan to be crucial to the plot have yet to be introduced. Not really a big fan of Kel myself, but can't change the fact that she exists. That would be…wrong of me =P *puts poison back on the shelf* we can dispose of her in another story =) it will be long..and very painful. Haha

            Alanna had fallen asleep again. When she woke, the sun was high in the sky and the carriage had stopped again. Glancing at the dress she had discarded with disdain, she frowned as the door opened and Arven stepped in. 

            "I suppose you think it was rather funny," he said, spitting the words out angrily. His blue eyes blazed, as if he thought he had a right to hold a grudge against her. She returned his gaze squarely, refusing to back down.

            "If I could read your mind, I'd probably be laughing." Alanna lifted her chin, allowing nothing to be extracted from her expressionless face.

            "You told me you were Princess Kalasin! You made me look like a fool in front of the men!" He was breathing hard, not wasting time to take a breath between his accusatory exclamations.

            "Did I?" She tilted her head, as if trying to remember. 

            "I told Capel I was going to check to see if you were planning on getting ready. I said 'Let me check on Kalasin.' Well, they all had a good laugh at my expense. And now you are too!" The last bit exploded from him as she failed to hold in a series of giggles. Her shoulders shook silently as she covered her face with her hands.

            "I'm sorry," she gasped out in the midst of her laughter, "but it's not my fault you're an idiot."

            Arven stared at her, still huffing and puffing from his brief tirade. He seemed unable to speak, so startled by her insult that he was rendered speechless.

            "I'm as old as King Jonathan, I have flaming red hair and purple eyes, I barely come up to your shoulder, and you believe I'm Jon's daughter? Seriously, you were asking for it. I'm sure you've heard of me. Carthak has. The Copper Isles have. Galla, Tyra, and Scanra. So pardon me for trying to hide behind a visibly false façade when yours is no less a lie. I don't believe you're Scanran. And I don't believe any lie that you're going to try to force on me now." She smiled as she finished, shrugging slightly as if to undermine the serious undertones of her rampage. 

            He continued to stare. Obviously he'd underestimated her. They both knew that. Finally, he spoke, changing the subject with a haste that surprised, unnerved, and frustrated her all at once. "You don't have purple eyes."

            She was so shocked that her expression shifted in such a way that it could only be labeled as a double take. "Excuse me?"

            "They're green," he said hesitantly, as if afraid he was going to look like an idiot again. She pondered his mood briefly. Why did he care about what a prisoner thought of him?

            "You're daft," she said flatly. "My eyes are light violet, purple. I'm known for it." If he knew who she was now, surely he knew that she was the violet-eyed lady knight. The eyes matched the deadly fire that sprang from her fingers. 

            They stared at each other, she unsure of why he was saying this, he beginning to wonder if he really _was_ crazy. Arven took the risk first. Wordlessly, he handed her a mirror that was laid on top of the dresser. She took it, rolling her eyes, certain she'd be proved right.

            All the breath flew out of her body in a sharp _whoosh_. Alanna stared into her reflection's eyes, into the swirling, enigmatic, unfamiliar emerald pools that stared straight back at her in confusion. In one swift movement, she threw the mirror across the room, where it smashed into the wall and caused the glass to shatter loudly. 

            Arven winced, as if she'd thrown it at him, as if he'd been the one to shatter. Alanna sprang to her feet, her temper no longer under her control. "What have you done to me?" she demanded, her hands shaking slightly as she advanced on him. 

            He backed away rapidly, hitting into the closed door. "I-I have done nothing, my lady," he stammered. The polite address calmed her, while at the same time making her blood boil even more.

            "You cannot refer to me as a lady, and yourself as my subject, and continue to hold me captive! Either give me my freedom or treat me as you would any other prisoner!" she shouted, her voice echoing as she fell silent, her chest heaving from the lack of air she'd taken in during her tantrum.

            Something clicked for him. She could see it in his face. The kindness flickered away, the sympathetic gaze changed into a steely, hardened glance. "I see you have decided to disregard my request for your obedience." Arven gestured at the dress, sounding for all the world as if she had not just shouted at him at the top of her lungs. 

            She rolled her eyes, sighing loudly, thrown slightly off balance by the abrupt change in his demeanor. "How am I supposed to put it on with these things attaching my wrists together?" she asked, shaking her wrists out in front of her so it was impossible for him to miss the hindrance to her dressing ability. The chains emitted a loud, metallic clink in the silence that followed her inquiry. 

            "Of course," Arven said, after a moment. He reached out and emerald sparks sprang from his fingertips, shooting towards the chains. The center of the chains began to melt, until it disintegrated entirely, leaving her with the cuffs around her wrists. Arven frowned at the continued sign of her status, but then glanced at her. "Those will stay, so I do not need to make new ones if you prove to be…troublesome."

            Alanna glared, but said nothing. He reached for one of her hands, staring down at the cuff in concentration. He muttered a few words that she could not hear and an emerald mark shone against the metal, before disappearing again.

            "There," he said. "You must stay in this carriage until I give you leave to do otherwise."

            "Like I'm going to throw myself out when it's moving," she snapped. 

            He just smiled back at her. "I wouldn't put it past you," he replied, not unkindly. 

            She took this returning kindness and ran with it. "Please," she said softly. "The cuffs are too tight; I fear I cannot take the pain." The lady act nearly killed her, but she continued to plead with him with her eyes.

            "You know nothing of pain," he told her, almost angrily, and she briefly wondered exactly who he thought he was talking to. Despite his anger, he loosened the grip the cuffs had on her wrists with another muttered word. He swept out of the carriage, slamming the door behind him without so much as a see you later.

            _I must escape, she thought. __No, you're going to stay with them and become a citizen of Scanra. The subconscious nagger had chimed in, chiding her for taking the time to think stupid thoughts. She smiled faintly. Her nagger often reminded her of Faithful, the cat who had coached her and trained her and made her who she was for a long time. She liked to think that her nagger _was_ Faithful, still taking care of her and keeping her company in times like this, doing the best he could from the stars he now called home. _

            "I must talk to this Capel," she said, after another moment of thought. Her nagger remained silent, which she took for agreement. "I must see what he wants with me." Chewing at her lower lip, she pulled the dress on, thankful that at least she hadn't been ordered to do something as silly as wear a corset. In the dresser, she found a brush. Alanna sat down, staring into eyes that she'd never seen before, and brushed out the knots she'd acquired since her departure from the Swoop. A brush was not something she'd thought to pack. It was just another symbol of how out of place she felt in this fancy carriage. Sighing, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail after she finished, retreating once again to the bed to await their arrival at the inn.

            Her thoughts traveled to Tortall; her longing to be there, to see George healthy and waiting for her, plagued her for the rest of the day. The next thing she knew, Arven had burst in once again and had jerked her up off the bed. "Come on," he said gruffly. "We're late."

            Alanna trotted doggedly after him, her boots scuffing against the tightly packed mud of the trail. A familiar, piercing whistle tore through the air, reaching her ears. Before she could stop herself, she had whirled around, her eyes searching. There he was, across the camp the travelers had set up. The coal-black colt threw his head up viciously, almost tearing the reins out of two handlers' hands. Three more men stood close by, nearly getting trampled as the horse snorted loudly and swung his hindquarters towards them. They jumped backwards just in time.

            Delight surged through Alanna's mind. She hadn't been sure what they'd done with him. Watching as the colt reared up, his forelegs striking dangerously close to one of the men's heads, she strode forward when the handler was forced to relinquish his hold on the reins. Slightly calmed as control of himself was given back to him, Ransom stood, his sides heaving as he studied the handlers, his sensitive nostrils flared angrily. 

            She heard Arven call for her, but ignored him. Ransom was more important. "Easy, boy," she said as she drew close enough for him to hear. His head shot up, slim auditives sliding upright at the sound of her voice. A handler stepped closer to him and the horse's ears flattened against his skull instantly, a hind leg lifting warningly. Alanna stepped to his head without hesitation, without fear. The colt snorted into her face and she called upon her horsemanship knowledge, breathing steadily into his nostrils. Ransom blew out a gentle breath and she smiled, knowing he had recognized her scent from across the camp already. "You're just a big show-off," she murmured in a sing-song tone, using her voice to keep him calm. He lowered his head into her familiar arms and she smiled, rubbing his ears obligingly. 

            Alanna frowned at the men. "He doesn't like strangers," she said, continuing her calming process. "Or men who try to muscle him around. Plus, he knows you're afraid of him."

            Arven had come up behind her, shooting her a glare. "They wanted to kill the cursed animal, but Capel and I said the king would want him. We didn't realize just _how much trouble he was going to be."_

            Alanna smiled sweetly. "A knight's warhorse is her greatest weapon. He's trained to protect me and to be distrustful of strangers."

            "Well, he's calm enough now," he said, glancing at Ransom. "Capel will want to know what the hold-up is." He started striding away, obviously expecting her to follow.

            Sighing, she scratched the horse's cheek fondly. "You're my Ransom and now I'm theirs," she whispered into his ear sadly, closing her eyes briefly. The auditive twitched and she smiled as she handed the reins to one of the men. Sometimes she thought he really did listen to what she told him. The ears slid back as he was led away and she chuckled to herself. These men who had captured them had had no idea what they were in for.

            "Yes, he said for you two to join him in the back room," a woman was telling Arven as Alanna caught up to him. She pointed down a long hallway and in a moment Alanna found herself following Arven down it. 

            Arven batted away the tapestry and sat down at a large, old, wooden table. Alanna hovered near the doorway, her sharp eyes studying the man who was already seated there. He was tall, tall enough to dwarf her. Blonde and blue-eyed, typical Scanran. A prominent nose that reminded her of one of her best friends in Tortall, one of the most powerful mages in the entire world. Sometimes she wondered whether he _was the most powerful. This similarity to her friend made her wary and she stayed where she was, continuing to eye him._

            She was startled when he looked up to meet her skeptical, studious gaze. Somehow, she'd thought she could be ignored, forgetting that he had wanted to talk to her. "Don't be shy," Capel told her. "The food's good."

            Her stomach growled loudly and the two men laughed. She frowned, her eyes narrowing, and then realized it had been over two days since she'd eaten. Eyeing the bread hungrily, she reluctantly sat across from Capel, reaching for a slice. Buttering it silently, she eyed him once again from beneath slightly lowered lashes. He seemed to be around her age, older than Arven, who was at least ten years younger than her, maybe more. 

            "Enough with the pleasantries," Alanna said flatly, when they were done eating. "I'm sitting here in a fancy dress and muddy boots, and I want to drop the act you're trying to build up. No one's here, no one's watching. What do you want with me?"

            Capel leaned forward to rest upon his elbows. He studied her, his eyes flicking over her face. "You're very pretty, for the reputation of a hardened knight you've established."

            Alanna groaned, leaning back, away from him. "Stop it," she snarled, her eyes flashing. "_What_ do you want with me?"

            Capel sighed, examining a fingernail. "I can't really tell you anything."

            "Then why did you bring me here tonight!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up into the air in exasperation. "Why put yourself on display, when you could have just left me in the camp?"

            "To get a look at you," he said, smiling flirtatiously. She simply rolled her eyes, frustrated and angry beyond belief.

            "So, you're not going to tell me anything?"

            "We are heading to the king's palace," he told her, abruptly dropping the flirting tone. 

            "The king?" Alanna was confused. From what she remembered in her lessons of Scanran government, there were separate tribes, all led by separate leaders. It was the reason for civil war, because none of the tribes could be brought together without blood being shed. She'd never heard of a king.

            "In recent years, a bloodline has been discovered. The king's father was restored to the throne and abruptly died. The present king descends from a line of royalty that has traces in each of the war clans. These clans pledge allegiance to this line and have yielded their civil war. There is one clan, however, a rogue clan, that plots rebellion from the far north. The king must be wary of them." He explained all this quickly. Alanna was briefly fascinated, placing this information away for further reference and knowledge for the people back home. She was certain none of them knew of any King of Scanra. 

            "So it is the king who wants me," she said, testing out her theory. 

            "That is correct," he said, nodding. Arven cleared his throat, receiving a glare from Capel. Alanna stared at him for a moment, wondering why he was so content to listen.

            "Why does he want me?" she asked. 

            "That, I'm afraid, I cannot tell you," Capel replied, sounding almost apologetic. He rose and Alanna frowned, realizing the subject was closed. "We must return to camp, we need to move up the road a bit before we stop for the night."

            Alanna remained silent as she gathered up her skirts, pushing her chair back from the table. Arven walked out the door, glancing over his shoulder as Capel grabbed her arm when she started to follow. Arven hesitated a moment, his expression unreadable, before he disappeared into the common room of the inn. 

            "You don't have to sleep alone tonight," Capel told her, his grin light-hearted and tempting. 

            She scowled, jerking her arm out of his grasp. "Oh, but I enjoy having a bed to myself," she replied. _I mustn't insult him, I have to stay on his good side._

            "Well, then you can return to your bed afterwards," he said, his grin widening slightly. Disgusted, Alanna scoffed at this outrageous flirtation. 

            "But…Arven told me you were a eunuch," she said, feigning confusion as she ran her gaze down his body. 

            Turning an interesting shade of red, Alanna called it scarlet in her mind, Capel sputtered at this. "I can assure you, I can _prove _to you," he started, struggling to get the right words out. 

            Alanna smiled, patting his shoulder sympathetically. "It's alright, Capel, honestly. Everyone has _some_ kind of weakness. Yours is no more embarrassing than my lack of control over my temper." She smiled again and practically skipped out of the room.

            _That could have gone better, her nagger told her. _It could have gone worse, too, _she replied silently, chuckling. Silence agreed with her and she went off, pausing when she realized she'd forgotten to ask if she could ride Ransom. Glancing behind her at the room where Capel was still trying to understand exactly what her insults had meant, she hid a laugh behind a cough. She could ask in the morning._

I know. I suck. I'm the worst person ever. I was actually considering abandoning the TP section for…*deep breath* Harry Potter. I KNOW! I SUCK! But I'm back, for good, I promise. Mostly because I suck at writing HP. And I missed Alanna and I missed you guys! 

This chapter sucked though, sorry about that. The main reason I posted some HP was because I got hit by writer's block. I do have this story basically all planned out, but I'm having trouble bringing it around. I have the next chapter planned, hopefully I'll make it longer than I'm thinking it will be. But only if you guys review! =) you got me to 30! How about 5 more? That's not that tough! But I guess I owe you for taking so long to post that I won't make it mandatory. But still review! =)

Happy New Year, everyone! Might not post before then

love, linza


	6. Stranger from Anywhere

Hmm. Been a few weeks. Sorry. School sucks. You know how it is. 

**Flaming Knight **– actually, Darkmoon was mentioned in Wild Magic, Daine's series, not at the Scanran War. I don't think Alanna would be riding him anymore (it's sad that I can remember =P) so I made up Ransom. You don't like him? =/ Oh well, I don't like Darkmoon, so we're even =P And she didn't ask Capel because she's more concerned with what they're going to do with her and where they're taking her. Plus it was the first time she met him, so she didn't really think to ask him, you know? Sorry if it's a lame explanation. 

** Chibi Noin **– you shall find out =P and no, it has nothing to do with Delia. That'd be a fun connection to write, wouldn't it? Not. =P

**PsychoLioness** – ugh, wish I could fix it for you. Computers can be so frustration sometimes…*mutters under her breath and refrains from fetching the hammer* thanks for making me feel loved by being a faithful reviewer even when ff.net isn't cooperating! =D

**Snakefeather**** – wow, I love you. I knew that the Bloody Throne existed but I couldn't remember the name and I was way too lazy to go looking for it, so I was just hoping I could get by with just talking about it =P and I just decided to make it descendants because it's an easy explanation and the reason he's the king isn't important, at least not to me. and since in my story the Scanran War is different than in LK, let's pretend the Tortallans didn't know that much, so Alanna needed a refresher course in Scanran history =P pretend is fun!**

**la**** dame noir – no one's ever used the word impressive to describe me =) I feel special now. Thanks =D and cliffs…so overdone but agh so hard to resist…*dangles Kel over the edge, cackling evilly* oh no, we mustn't… *sigh***

**Wake-Robin **– well, thanks, even though I still think it sucked because it was basically just a waste of space, but hopefully this chapter will meet the standards I set for myself (unlikely). Thanks for reviewing! =)

**treanz** alyce** – you better update your Shang one! I liked it. we're review buddies now =D  as always, thanks for reviewing =D**

**Queen's Own** – sorry, it wasn't soon. But at least I didn't start another story instead =P 

**Lady Emmi – **unintentional, never read those books. Mleh, aren't they about mice? There's these mice in my attic and I think there's two cause I hear them scrabbling around when I'm trying to fall asleep and one of them has this like metal toy that he drags around and then drops and I've named them Bill and Crabby, Bill's the one with the toy and Crabby always seems mad at him when he's playing with the toy, he scrabbles around, so it fits. But maybe they play together…I'm afraid to go up there though; I can be such a scaredy cat… Wow, I can really ramble on about mice, can't I? 

Anyway, thanks so much for the reviews. This last chapter got the most out of all the chapters, so I decided to not be lazy and respond to everyone! I actually didn't have writer's block for this chapter, I've had it planned for forever and the first five were just the ones I needed to get to it, but then break ended before I could write it and I just haven't been home. My friends threw me a little surprise party on Friday night =) was very exciting. I love my friends. So I've been busy. Sorry, you guys deserve more frequent updates. And I really should give them to you before track starts, but I'm a horrible person. But anyway, rambling again. I just wanna say thanks to you guys again, because most of you reviewed my first chapter and stuck with me since then. I love it. =) Oh! And! Thank the snow for me finishing this chapter cause it might have taken a whole nother week, haha. 

            It was a cloudy day. Foggy, even. The mist settled upon the forest and wafted lazily through the trees. 

            The weather matched the rider's mood. He let the reins go slack, his horse could see better and knew to follow the path. Slumping over, he dozed from to time, letting his thoughts randomly travel. 

            He woke up because the horse had randomly stopped. Confused by the lack of motion, he stretched lazily and clucked his tongue at the horse. "We can't stop yet. Sorry, old man," he told the young horse, who simply flicked an ear in response and remained stationary.

            Sighing, for the ways of Tortallan animals could be both intriguing and frustrating, he poked the horse gently in the stomach with the heel of his boot, hoping his message would get across. The horse snorted, shifting its weight irritably, but still remained where it was.

            The chirp of a bird fell upon his ears and the winged animal was soon perched on his horse's neck. It was the lack of a response from the horse at the sudden added weight that told him much more than a spook would have. 

            The rider sighed, turning his gaze out in front of him. "I should have guessed you wouldn't be fooled. Still, I expected a little bit longer of a reprieve." The bird seemed to be smiling at him, cocking its head to the side as it gazed up at him intelligently and offered nothing in return for conversation. He made a face at it, muttering to himself under his breath. 

            Thoroughly miserable now, he slumped again as the horse began moving forward once more. 

            The bird and the horse alerted him to the presence of others. Cursing himself for his lack of awareness, he reined the horse, Stone, in as he scanned the forest around him warily. Stone's ears pricked forward and a moment later, the rider heard the sounds, too. Voices, he realized. He scowled, cursing their stupidity now. Anybody could be out in these woods. _He_ was out in these woods.

            Almost supportively, the bird found a new perch on his shoulder. Glaring at it, he carefully lifted the hood of his cloak, the hood that had been magically altered so his face could not be seen, only an impenetrable darkness, only a shadow. 

            Their paths met a few minutes later. The lady was laughing at something the knight was saying, before her amusement was cut off with an abrupt "Oh!" of surprise. The knight's squire, he presumed, steered his horse over to the lady's other side from where he'd been trailing behind. 

            He would have smiled if they could see his face. Instead he wasted no time with pleasantries, speaking in a grim tone that fit his appearance. "We seem to be heading in the same direction."

            The knight was wary. "We do not travel with strangers," he said, indicating himself and his companions.

            The lady's eyes were sharp, studying him intently. "It cannot be helped," she said, before the rider could respond.

            "And, I believe, our paths lie together." The rider studied the knight, knowing a war of instincts was going on inside of him. 

            "Do you have a name, stranger?" the knight finally asked, arching a brow skeptically. 

            "You may call me…Mysterious Hooded Rider," he said, without a trace of irony or amusement. 

            "You must have a name," the squire insisted, one hand resting a little too fondly on his saddlebags. 

            "And I do, but you won't be finding it out," he told them. "Names can hold too much power in the mind of the wrong person." _What a load of horse manure. _

            "Then you'll forgive us for not freely giving our own identities," the knight said, smiling faintly. 

            "Of course," the rider started to say, but the lady interrupted, serenely guiding her mount up next to his.

            "I am Lady Kelrina of Masbolle," she said breathlessly, offering him one ivory-clad hand and ignoring the knight's soft sound of protest. "And I would be honored if you would travel with us."

            He bowed low over the hand she offered. "As long as our paths are intertwined, I shall be at your side, my lady." The bird chirped quietly and he added, with a tinge of amusement, "As will Soprano."

            Though looking reluctant, the knight moved forward as well. "Sir Domitan of Masbolle," he said, ducking his head briefly in what the rider took as gruff version of a salute. "I present my newlywed," he indicated Lady Kelrina, "and my faithful squire, Nealan of Tasride." The squire nodded as well, smiling just as faintly as the knight.

            The rider gazed around at his three new companions. "Oh, we are going to have fun together!" Eagerly, he turned his horse's head to the north. 

            The lady grinned, continuing to ride next to him. "Is Soprano your pet?"

            "Just a friend," he said, winking before remembering she couldn't see his eyes. 

            The knight made a disgruntled sound from behind them, the path could only fit two abreast, and the rider glanced back at him and the squire. "Anyone know a good song?"

I know. Shortness. But these ones are hard to make long without making the story go too fast. I think you're gonna have questions, so don't hesitate to ask! 

You know the drill. Review! And I'll update, hopefully faster than this time, and we'll all be happy.

Hmmm. My fiftieth reviewer can have a little prize or something. Maybe a cameo appearance in one of the chapters =P Is that incentive to review? 

love, linza 


	7. Lioness Chased

            Ransom should have been spooky after not being ridden for a few days and being held in the company of strangers. Alanna sank her weight down into her heels warily, suspicious of his surprisingly good behavior as he docilely followed Arven's gelding down the unfamiliar trail. She held the reins in one hand, the other resting lightly on her dress-clad thigh. 

            She had refused to ride sidesaddle, claiming she didn't even know how. It was the truth, she'd never even tried to look like a lady on horseback. And she knew she'd be off in a moment if Ransom so much as shied. It took time and patience to build up a sense of balance and the sidesaddle would throw her off her center. 

            This was not her saddle, however. Her saddle was small, perfectly fitted to her frame. She'd given up her fancy saddles years ago for one of comfort and practicality. It was a saddle she could jump fences in, if she so wished. 

            But this saddle had a high back, almost like a tilting saddle. She squirmed for the first few minutes, having forgotten the feeling of being so restricted, so confined. _I should be used to it after being caged in that carriage for so long_.

            Her lower leg was swinging. She scowled down at it, angry at herself for letting a few days off slacken her usually perfect form. She'd always been good on horseback; it was a quality that made her a good knight. 

            Alanna's earlier suspicions had been correct. She nudged Ransom into a trot to catch up to Arven as the trail widened. Given only a moment's notice, she jammed her heels back down from where they'd been riding up as the colt's head shot downwards and jerked the reins almost out of her fingers. 

            They passed Arven in a mixture of bolting and bucking. Alanna briefly heard an exclamation from the person she had wanted to interrogate. "Alanna, what…?" But Ransom had no inkling to stop so she could have a conversation.

            Alanna set her teeth, forcing her weight back as far as it could go. Cursing the saddle, for it kept her in place, she finally grabbed hold of her left rein, letting the right one dangle precariously through her slackened grip. _Yank_. 

            She pulled Ransom's head around until it was almost resting against her leg. Given no alternative, the colt turned in circles for a few moments before giving up, letting out a long breath that was almost comical. At home, Alanna would have laughed at his antics. A spirited horse kept her on her toes. But this was _so not the time. _

            Alanna ignored the stares of the other travelers as Arven tentatively pulled up beside her. "You okay?" His green eyes studied her with a level of concern that surprised her. 

            "Fine and dandy," she told him, smiling as if she were out for a ride with some friends. 

            "He's got a nasty buck in him," Arven said, letting out a low whistle as he studied the colt. 

            "That was nothing," she said, laughing. "You should see him when he decides it's time for my flying lessons." Smiling to herself, she recalled all the times he'd bucked her off.

            "Why do you ride him, if he's so bad?" Arven asked curiously as they started walking again.

            As if he could understand, Ransom snorted loudly, slim ears sliding back a fraction. Alanna smiled, reaching down to stroke his neck affectionately. "Because he's not mean, just playful. And a good horse to have in a battle. He's not really trying to get me off. I'd know if he was, it would be impossible to stay on. He grew out of that after George and I broke him…" The thought of George sobered her and she glanced away from Arven. 

            Neither of them seemed to know what to say to break the silence. Blinking back tears, Alanna said hurriedly, "He just gets antsy. I usually ride him everyday. What he needs is a good gallop."

            Arven glanced at her again. "That can be arranged," he said, smiling, before turning to greet an approaching rider.

            Alanna hid a scowl at the sight of Capel. "What can be arranged?" the leader asked of Arven, while he directed his gaze at Alanna. 

            Demurely, or she hoped, Alanna glanced down. 

            "The lady's horse could use some exercise," Arven explained. Alanna scowled, resisting the urge to protest the name he gave her. She wanted to remain a lady in front of Capel, for perhaps he would leave her alone if he thought of her as a noble. 

            "We are almost to the castle," Capel told her. "There is a long field before the entrance. We can gallop there."

            "We?" she inquired, arching a brow. 

            "My horse is restless, too," he said, with a wink that was anything but innocent. 

            Arven scowled, unnoticed by Capel. Alanna glanced at him quizzically. His identity was becoming a constant mystery. Why did he care so much about her? He'd been concerned that one night, when Capel had intended for her to share his bed. And a few moments before, when she'd almost fallen off. This façade he was putting on, both for the Scanrans and for her, was utterly frustrating to struggle to decipher. 

            With a sigh, she resigned herself to walking until they reached the last leg of their journey.

            "Race you to the fence," Arven said, the challenge dangling in the air for her to take. Capel opened his mouth to speak, but Alanna had already snatched the challenge from mid-air and was off and running with it.

            Ransom's ears slid back as she heeled him forward, but soon he was caught up in the joy of running, the joy that she shared. And this time, there were no archers who would end their headlong flight, no pursuers they had to be wary of as they flew. That wasn't true. Alanna glanced back under her arm at Arven and Capel, who were vying for second place. She threw back her head and laughed, briefly surprised that she felt so happy. Well, competition could do that to her.

            "Faster," she called to the horse. This might be the last chance she had to ride him. Ever. Who knew what the king would do with him? She clucked her tongue rapidly, giving the horse all the rein he wanted. His mane flew up to tickle her face and she breathed in his familiar equine scent, burying her face in the silken strands briefly. 

            Alanna glanced back once more. The field was long and her two pursuers were far enough back to be a distant worry, something she could forget about until she reached the finish line. 

            Her hands scrubbed up his neck as she clucked at him again. As he changed leads, he accelerated again and she was almost blown back into the saddle by the rush of power and wind that the new gear he'd found brought to her. Laughing once more and causing his ears to flick back questioningly, she enjoyed the feeling of racing the wind. "We're winning!" she told the horse, who seemed to already know this as he simply lengthened his stride again. 

            And suddenly there was the fence. Alanna sighed, reluctant to slow down and come back to reality. Her reluctance cost time, precious time that sped by as the horse's swift strides ate up the ground. Then there wasn't time to stop. "Goddess!" Alanna gasped as Ransom continued his flight toward the fence. To take a jump at this speed was _murder¸ was _suicide_. _

            But Ransom wasn't stupid. The spot was perfect and he went for it without any urging from his rider. She was poised, her extended arms giving him space. The colt's knees snapped up to his chest and he cleared the fence, suspended in mid-air for a few, time-stopping moments.

            Flying, she'd thought. She hadn't known what flying was until this moment, hanging there during the air time that such a huge jump created. They landed jarringly and Alanna fell forward onto his neck, patting and praising the colt as if he were the son of the Gods themselves. Right then, she'd have believed such an impressive lineage, if she hadn't known that he descended from her former mounts. 

            The colt was sweating by now and she continued patting him, walking around in circles while they waited for Arven and Capel to catch up. Her gaze slid up the hillside to the top of it, where the castle sat waiting for her. A deep breath _whooshed_ out of her lungs and the joy she'd felt only minutes earlier evaporated. 

            It was time to be a prisoner again.

I know, I know. I took a while. But it was my birthday yesterday! So I'm allowed to be slow =P Anyway, long enough for you? I hope so, it took forever cause I would always get called away after like a sentence. 

Next chapter: Secret =P (actually I don't really know yet…haha)

Next Alanna chapter: We meet the king! Who is he? Did we meet him already? Is he someone from the books that you'd never expect? Hmmm. *evil grin*

I've got midterms this week (and snow days! you can actually thank the snow that I finished this in the first place) so maybe I can get another chapter up tomorrow or something. No promises, though. 

love, linza


	8. Message From Yesterday

Disclaimer: nothing's mine, for the final time.

twiddles thumbs yepp…it's been way too long. Almost five months, I think. But I've been soooo busy, you have no idea. But what was was cute was every once in a while I'd get a random review and it would make me want to update soooo bad, but it would be like on a Monday, when I go straight from track to the barn or on a Wednesday when it's track and soccer. And then when I did have time I couldn't make myself update. So yeah. I suck. I know. Sorry. Here's your long awaited sucky chapter. Sorry again!

**Corus**

It was supposed to be a happy day. Two whole Rider groups were arriving, masked amid the various parades and balls as returning heroes. However, they really had simply been almost out of supplies and this action was, in all honesty, a retreat from the Scanran border. They needed to get back out as soon as possible to keep the border control from collapsing. 

Jonathan watched the proceedings from the tower window in one of his many offices, his striking eyes growing increasingly misty as his thoughts traveled to where the troops had recently been. If anyone walked in, he would, of course, blame it on the sharp, cutting wind that was tearing around outside, almost ruining the day. 

A runner had come in. "Report from the south, Your Majesty," he said, standing hesitantly by the door.

"Yes, thank you," Jonathan replied without turning around. "Leave it on the table there."

A few minutes later, Jonathan dragged himself slowly over to the table. His pace picked up considerably when he recognized the seal on the parchment from halfway across the room. He flung himself into a chair, ripping open the soggy, stained envelope as fast as his fingers could do so, which wasn't very quick at all considering the way they were trembling.

A few moments later, when he'd finished reading the extremely brief, succinct, even cold letter, he sat there in silence.

He was still sitting there when Thayet walked in as the sun was beginning to set. He chanced a glance out the window in surprise; he knew what time she had told him she was going to come fetch him and he'd been "working" in this room since sunrise, but somewhere along the way he'd lost track of several hours. 

"We have to hurry. They've already started the meal," Thayet said slowly as her eyes took in his solemn state. Her eyes fell upon the letter and she gasped in happy surprise. "What news from the Swoop?"

Jonathan gulped, his heart hurting. He glanced down at his hands, blinking hard to force tears back. A deep breath _whooshed_ painfully out of his lungs and Thayet, her voice shaking, asked hesitantly, "Jon?"

"It's George," he replied finally, glancing up to look at her. "He's…he's presumed dead."

To say it out loud made it all the more painful and final. Jonathan returned his gaze to his hands, his shoulders shaking silently as he struggled with his emotions. Thayet gasped, taking a step backward with a stricken look on her face. 

"P-presumed?" she asked tentatively, tears audible in her voice.

Jonathan took another deep breath, regaining his composure slowly. "Scanra attacked the Swoop again. There was mass confusion, with George still in the infirmary. That morning, the healer said he wouldn't last until nightfall. After the fight, there was more chaos with all the injured being brought in and they can't find him. There were Scanrans all over the Swoop, they think he was found and killed."

Thayet leaned against the wall, silent tears coursing down her highset cheekbones. She sniffled, her perfectly chiseled nose turning a brilliant crimson. "When Alanna finds out…" she said softly, her heart breaking. 

"I know," Jonathan said grimly, slowly standing. He held out a hand to her, which she took gratefully.

"And now," he said, with all the strength of a great king that he could muster, "we celebrate."

Thayet nodded, lifting a chin that trembled. 

"I love you," he told her quietly, his eyes searching hers. "I don't get a chance to say it enough." With his thumbs, he gently wiped away the last of her tears and they shared a brief, sweet kiss. 

Her throat hurt too much to repeat the words back to him, but she nodded again, squeezing his hand tightly once she was holding it again. 

"There will be time to mourn," Jonathan said as they closed the door behind them. _But when?_ he couldn't help asking himself.

He would never know how he got through that dinner and the ball that followed it, but he did. He lived to face the next day, as George never would. And he suffered through that time period, knowing there never would be time to mourn. 

...

Well, that's _not_ what I had planned for this chapter. I had wanted a brief Jonathan interlude and then a longer piece of Kel, Dom, Neal, and the Rider. Jon had other ideas, though, the stupid pig. It doesn't feel right to switch perspectives here, so I'm ending the chapter even though it's short. Sorry. I promise a much quicker update for the Alanna chapter.

Um..don't hate me :) It was necessary for my plot. I love George as much as the next person, but he had to go. 

Review please! And I almost forgot. I think I need a beta. I have so many typos and grammatical errors, I'm just so bad. And I need a beta who will push me to update. Anyone interested? If not, I guess I'll survive, but only with a certain level of suckiness in my chapters. =P 

love, linza


	9. Lioness Shattered

**Yes, yes, I know, it's been too long again. Sorry =( To make up for it, I'm planning on completely revising CtC: lengthening chapters, fixing things that are completely random, and adding depth to the characters that is severely lacking. As soon as I get my head out of the Harry Potter section, I'll busy myself with that. **

**Thank you to all my reviewers! I want to get this chapter up quickly, but for the next one I'm personally thanking each and every one of you =) **

Alanna watched a stranger lead her horse away, squinting slightly to keep from showing emotion. Ransom danced lightly away from his handler, being a general nuisance and trying to get a better view of Alanna, who he expected to be following, being used to her being the one to take care of him after a long day's riding.

"Sorry, boy," she whispered, and clenched her hands into fists.

"This way, lady," Arven called, and with a sharp sigh she turned to follow.

Capel was nowhere to be found and that sigh turned into one of relief, her annoyance briefly evaporating.

It wasn't a castle, persay. Not like the palace in Corus. _That_ was a sight that made you stop, gaze skyward, and take in a deep breath that was filled with awe. She gazed up at the home of the Bloody Throne almost disdainfully, wondering if Tortall had spoiled her. But-no. She'd been to Carthak and Corus was nothing compared to that empire.

There wasn't much light inside. Arven had said nothing once she began to follow him and now she was grateful for it took all her concentration to watch where she was going. There were torches along the hallways, but they weren't lit yet. She held up her skirts with one hand and rested the other on the wall as she stumbled along, her head bent slightly as she tried to see the ground, placing one foot in front of the other carefully and trusting Arven not to do something crazy like…walk into a wall. It seemed he was used to this, his eyes had adjusted much faster than hers.

It was a shock when they entered a brightly lit chamber, presumably at the top of the castle. She blinked a few times and glanced around.

"Your Majesty, may I present Lady Alanna?" Arven bowed as he announced her presence and Alanna frowned slightly at the complete lack of propriety. This was _nothing_ like how Jon would have treated a Scanran prisoner. "Lady Alanna, King Maden."

The two men seated by the fireplace rose. Alanna's eyes settled on the shorter and fatter of the two, the one with the crown on his head. Her gaze sharpened and the look she sent him could have sliced through any steel sword. He seemed quite taken aback and his smile was tentative. "Lady, I trust your trip was to your satisfaction?"

Alanna blinked. "Other than the fact that I was being held against my will, yes, I found it much to my liking." She was about to go on, but Arven cleared his throat and she abruptly shut up.

The king looked confused. Arven had opened his mouth to speak, but Alanna's gaze had fallen upon the other man in the room and her blood froze in her veins, her heart stopping cold.

"Y-_you_," she stuttered.

"Yes, I thought you would be shocked to see me," the man said with a smile.

"How many times must you force me to kill you?" With a snarl, her lip upturning and her eyes blazing, Alanna began to stalk forward, her hand scrambling for the sword that wasn't there. Thrown off by its absence, she paused in the middle of the room, and realized just how out of place she was. _I'll kill him with my bare hands, then_, she thought, and was about to lunge when Arven spoke.

"Majesty, Capel has much to report."

The king looked much more interested in what was developing right here, but he followed Arven out of the room.

"What are you doing here? Why are you alive _again?_" Alanna hissed, her fingers outstretched at her sides, not unlike a feline stretching out its claws before it attacks its prey.

"Well, you see, the King of Scanra needed the best, and I'm the best there is."

"_Was_."

"Is!" A crazy, cheerful grin stole across the man's face as he exclaimed happily.

Roger of Conté, haunter of Alanna's nightmares and destroyer of the former rulers of Tortall, bowed low before her. She concentrated on her breathing, concentrated on keeping her vision from going completely red.

"Roger," she said slowly, "what do you have to do with my being captured?"

"Absolutely nothing," he replied easily, and she felt a little better, "except for the part where I planned it."

"What does he want with me?" The question burst forth, burning her tongue as it escaped through her open lips and she folded her arms across her chest, her eyes impatient as she looked at him.

"Well, to marry you of course."

There was a silence. Then, an astonished "What?" vociferated from her rapidly opening and closing mouth.

"It will align him with Tortall." Roger sounded almost bored, almost as if he was reciting the reason. "And, he finds you particularly attractive and desirable, of course."

"Of course," Alanna repeated numbly, slightly in shock.

There was another brief silence.

"Doesn't he know," Alanna asked slowly, her voice sounding dull and detached even to her own ears, "that he can't marry a woman who's already married?"

"That's easily taken care of," Roger replied.

"A king could never marry a divorced woman," Alanna said quickly. "And you'd have to fake the papers, because you'd have to kill me before I signed anything."

"No, a king couldn't, but he could marry a widow."

Silence. Then, "Pardon?"

"Well, speaking from experience, you can't be married to a dead man."

She flung herself across the room, too fast for him to react. "If you touch George, if you harm one hair on his head, I'll-"

He was laughing. Laughing right in her face. She'd never known such fear before.

"Too late." He grinned at her.

"I don't believe you," Alanna said flatly, but her breathing was already shortening, her shock increasing.

"George is _gone_," he taunted, and she felt her heart begin to break. "_Dead_, _bloodied, battered._"

"Stop it!" she shrieked, clamping her hands over her ears, but she couldn't block out the message, or the image it was concocting in her brain, and she couldn't hold back the tears.

The next thing she knew, she had sank down to her knees and her whole body was wracked with sobs and she couldn't breathe, she was trying her hardest to inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, but something just wasn't cooperating. She was going to faint, she knew what this weakness was, but that didn't even matter right now, because this pain felt as if it would shatter her entire skeleton into a million tiny pieces. She took one last attempt, gasping in a breath of sweet, sweet air and then she let go, letting the images before her blur, partly from tears and partly from impending darkness.

Then she was gone, and a swarthy veil enveloped her vision, allowing her a chance for escape. And then she felt no more pain.


	10. Love on the Battlefield

Corus was in chaos.

Somehow, fliers had been posted all around the city, fliers demanding surrender in return for the safety of the Lioness. Confused citizens filled the streets, discussing what they thought the fliers meant, as King Jonathan had not informed the country of any such danger to the lady knight.

Jonathan woke with a headache and knew that it was going to be another bad day in a string of bad days. Indeed, as he gazed out of his bedroom window, casting a glance at the sleeping Thayet, he studied the situation in the lower city and frowned. An aide came in and explained what he was seeing and his frown simply deepened.

Across the Scanran border, Keladry of Mindelan was frowning just as deeply. She returned Domitan of Masbolle's earnest stare and let everything he was saying go in one ear and out the other.

"You just need to promise me you're not planning on doing something stupid once we get there," he was saying, and just when she had nearly succeeded in completely tuning him out, while nodding and smiling convincingly, he reached out, placing his hands over her clasped ones.

Shocked by his touch, her eyes dropped down to the innocent union of their bodies, feeling the heat rush from her hands, up her arms, to her face in the form of a blush. _Stop it. This isn't the time or place. _

"Of course I won't," she said softly, though not admitting that truthfully, these disguises and this path they were on was as far as she'd gotten in her plans.

"Seriously," Dom insisted, "this isn't a situation where you need to be the hero."

"My only goal is to save Alanna. And I will do anything, stupid or not, sane or not, to save her."

Dom sighed. "Try not to get yourself killed, thanks. I'm not sure who would throw me in the dungeon first if anything happened to you – Jonathan, Raoul, or Alanna herself."

"And if it were Raoul in this situation? Would you listen to someone telling you not to do anything stupid?"

"No," Dom said quietly, but honestly, his eyes on hers, "I'd do anything within my power to kill the bastards."

"Then you understand," Kel said, offering a small smile.

"I love your smile."

There was a silence that stretched on for several long moments in which Kel found it hard to breathe. _Not the time, not the place._ Those stunning eyes refused to let her go and they stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

"What?" she finally wheezed out, her voice shaking.

"I think you're amazing," Dom clarified, sounding almost desperate. His grip on her hands grew tighter and he leaned closer. "I can't let us waltz into the castle of the Bloody Throne, into more danger than we've ever known, and not let you know it."

"Dom," Kel began.

"Don't," he cut in quickly, "you don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know."

Kel's gaze slid down his face, realizing they were now seated close enough for her to feel his breath, hard and fast, on her cheek. Pulling one hand away from the hold he had on her, she gently ran her thumb over his lips, caressing his face with her hand. "Dom," she said wonderingly, as if figuring something out.

"_Kel_," he answered, strong emotion in his voice, and he leaned forward even more, certainly to kiss her if not for the hand that had been gently placed on his cheek, now inconveniently blocking his mouth from hers.

"Don't," she said, and it was a struggle to say and a struggle to hear. The confusion in his eyes was like a dagger flung into her chest and she hurried to explain, her eyes open and serious.

"When you kiss me, _if_ you kiss me, I want it to be because you wanted to, and not because you're scared of dying or of me dying. We're not going to die, Dom. We're just not. And we have a whole lifetime ahead of us for this, if we want it."

Dom groaned, running a hand over his face and sat back, relinquishing his hold on her hands. Instantly, Kel regretted her decision, though she felt it was the correct one. "I want it," Dom said, smiling wryly. "I've wanted it for a long time."

There was a pause in which Kel realized she was expected to say something and then it was too late, a mask had passed over Dom's face and she felt not only physically separated from him, but emotionally as well, all in a moment's time, and she could not understand the pain she now felt in place of that. "But you're right," he conceded, as he stood to move away.

"Dom," Kel protested, but he had already moved off and was speaking to Neal, leaving her to sigh and struggle to put it to the back of her mind. There were more important things to speak of, and so she turned to find their final traveling companion and find out more about him.


End file.
